It Just Got Real
by Marc Hautser
Summary: Percy Jackson lives a less-than normal life as an assassin, using his near-superhuman abilities and skill to make a living. But when a routine double-assassination goes wrong, a game-changer occurs, leaving Percy to venture onto the criminal underworld of New York to take down swathes of henchmen, crack jokes, and face off against colorful characters before all hell breaks loose.
1. Chapter One: The Introduction

It started with a government experiment. I learned very early on that the life of Percy Jackson, me, was the product of a massive screw-up by Uncle Sam. They experimented on eventually turned some regular people into some sort of genetically engineered super humans with _massive _side effects. Not just sneezing and headaches, but also dangerous mood shifts, violent urges, and a random tendency to fuck anything that walks. That's how I was born. My father, Code-name 9949-Poseidon (a nickname that he picked up in some god-forsaken water-park) was a result of some fish, horses, salt, milk, and temporal brain lobes. Don't ask me how he ended up a deranged superhuman, because he somehow magically turned into a superhuman with the mood shifts of a teenage girl enhanced by his murderous testosterone supplement, and an ability to control water and horses. So, about the fucking everything that walks part, yeah. That's how I was born. I was basically him except for the fact that I was less powerful, and that I had lesser versions of his symptoms. My mom Sally did her best, and she was a great mother, taking care of me but never knowing my true potential. She thought I was useless. Being dyslexic and having ADHD was a detriment for any job applicant, but mine was enhanced somewhat, providing me a virtual barrier between a fry cook and any level of job higher than that. But, an opportunity came. I was 17 years old when I realized my potential as a high-maintenance assassin. I was walking home from Goode, my high school, a group of guys jumped on me. Not just some scared-shitless teenagers trying to make a quick buck, but grown men trying to kill some unsuspecting fuck. There were seven of them, some even jumping off of trees, and I thought that was the end. There was a moment where I could see nothing and hear only screams when I opened my eyes and found a scattering of dead bodies with bloody holes in their heads, a gun with a silencer snuggled into my bloody hand, and foam dripping down my chin. That's how I got into the assassin business. I finished high school, packed a few things, and ran away from, and here I am, a 25-year old assassin with gun in hand walking towards a shady strip club in a dark alley. Little did I know that right there was the place where things went horribly wrong.

How, you ask? The Angelico assassin's guild was waiting for me.

The first thing I felt when I opened the door was a large, blunt object slammed against my chin, sending me flying into the wall. Dazed but still aware, I analysed the room and found what looked like an abandoned strip club with some flickering lights and a roach problem, and a fat guy with a black suit and tie. My eyes widened as I noticed he had a gun barrel boring into my face, so I pushed it away and rolled to the left as I heard a loud BANG! I grabbed the guy in the suit who attacked me in the arm, and struggled with him to grab the gun as a couple of other men came barreling down the stairs, bullets flying. I used the suit guy as a meat shield and threw him against the two men, pulled out my trusty modified pistol riptide, and squeezed a couple a bullets into their head. It was supposed to be an assassination and robbery of some 80-something old fart, I thought. Nobody really cared about this godforsaken place, and it was some quick cash for more weapon upgrades and renting (We assassins are not kings, thank you very much). My thoughts would be my downfall as A few more men barreled downstairs, machine guns in hand. I wasn't scared of them, even a tiny bit amused. What I was _really_ scared of was Nico de Angelo, the murderous leader of the Angelicos, and the fact that he had a sadistic grin on his face and a hammer, rope, and two pistols in his hands.


	2. Chapter Two: Hammer to The Knee

So as I sat there, shoved down onto and bound to an uncomfortable wooden seat, thinking of the many wonderful ways Nico was going to torture, blackmail, and eventually murder me, I noticed that Nico wasn't cleaning his hammer, or fidgeting with his pistols, as most torture specialists did to intimidate people. He just stared into my eyes, boring into my soul. He definitely lived up to his reputation as the guy who made your shit literally army-crawl out of your mouth and run like Usain Bolt to the nearest trash can. I was unfazed, though. I had met the superhuman 998-Hades before, Nico's dad. I nearly died just from staring at him, and even had something well up in my throat and up my stomach before some amateurs decided to distract him and get slaughtered leaving me to escape. Come to think of it, why was I so frightened of Nicon again? His reputation was supplemented by the fact that he had 20 armed guards around him, and he also had the insincts and power of a 16-year-old. I had just fallen prey to the rumors. So, with new determination, I looked straight into him too. His stare was pretty mundane, so for Nico's sake, (I was actually beginning to feel really sorry for the guy, having an extra-murderous dad and all) I flashed a scared look at him. Nico seemed confident, so he took out a hammer, and exclaimed an extra-spooky

"Who sent you?" Me, being the charming prince that I was, rudely questioned,

"Well, where's the old guy? " Nico, surprisingly oblivious to the fact that I was not afraid a single bit, laughed maniacally and shouted,

"BRING THE CORPSE!" I stared intently at the two men who dropped their machine guns and dragged an old guy into my sight. I smiled as I heard hooves clopping nearby. Nico looked at my expression and was clearly confused as he asked,

"110,000,000 dollars of cash lost, and you're smiling!?" I didn't even need to reply as I noticed that the sound of hooves were becoming louder and louder at an alarming rate, and spat at Nico's face leaving him with an enraged look on his face. I knew what was coming next, as I heard a door open as Nico dropped everything and slammed his hammer onto my kneecap. Even though I was disorientated, I could still hear gunfire and screams in the background. As I looked up, I could see my best friend and bodyguard Grover standing over an assortment of dead bodies with two smoking machine guns in hand. Nico was just standing there, back against the wall, face filled with horror, when I decided to break the ice.

"About time, fatass," Was the first thing I joked when Grover untied me and helped me up. Grover, sharp, as always, replied,

"Well, don't tell _me _to lose wait when you're out here being tortured by a twelve-year old!" I chuckled as I grabbed Nico's hammer and bashed his frightened skull in with ease, leaving him crumpled on the floor. Grover picked up the briefcase of cash lying on the floor with a quick swipe, and as Grover and I steadily walked out, well, him supporting my leg and making quick progress with His experimental goat legs, we heard sirens and gunfire, but immediately dismissed as New York's common 10:00 PM crime run. A few minutes later, we came back to one of the Underground parking-lot turned assassin lounges hidden throughout the city, nothing on our mind but pizza, we noticed that the sirens and gunfire were getting louder. A sense of dread crawled into our thoughts, and as we turned the corner, our worst fear was confirmed. The base was compromised. Cop Cars and shrapnel awaited us instead of the hidden entrance, and we knew we had to do something. So, Grover and I came up with a plan. Not a _plan _plan, but just a half-assed thought that might get a lot of people killed. Well, that's what I said to Grover while we waited outside. As we revved up the cop car, Grover requested one last thing before we drove into the underbelly of New York. "Can we get some fucking pizza after this?"


	3. Chapter Three: Exploring Narnia

As Grover and I launched an old cop car through the entrance to the criminal underworld, taking down swathes of cops, poles, banners, evidence, investigators, and maybe even a fucking cat, I noticed only one thing: We forgot that the entrance was a doorway. So, we had to take the brunt of the impact when the car brutally crashed into the doorway, including glass shards, debris, and one stone-cold concrete wall. We were both crumpled on the ground on separate sides of the ground, waiting for the other to get up and rescue each other.

Luckily, I was the one. So, with determination in my eyes, blood on my suit, and a steady stream of piss flowing down my pants, I crawled towards a puddle of dirty bottled water and soaked my hand in it. I felt my cuts fade, the glass in my ribs drop onto the ground, and my broken knee mend. That's one of the perks of being a semi-superhuman. If I even touch water, my wounds heal. Must have been in one of the octopus' testicles with the formula they gave to my dad. Wandering in my thoughts, I remembered about Grover. I reached in my pocket, pulled out the ambrosia, and walked over to Grover. Oh, I forgot to tell you about ambrosia. It's a form of synthesized cocaine mixed with some drug called Keratosis-B and some other shit. Once you either grind and snort it, smoke it, or just chew and swallow the packaged square shape (my preferred method), it heals you of most wounds and injuries.

Once Grover got up, we pushed the car off of the door, screwed silencers onto our pistols, and ventured into the base. Oh, let me tell you about the base, or as we assassins like to call The Gateway. It's a pretty cushy house with a fireplace, bar, couches, a flat screen TV, and all sorts of shit. Although we can rest, rejuvenate, and maybe watch some Breaking Bad if we have the time, The Gateway has a huge purpose. Take an elevator in the bathroom, and you end up right in the must bustling section of the criminal underworld, where you can pick up missions, hits, modifications, and maybe some drugs.

Grover and I creeped through the house to find that there were a lot of cops in a lot of rooms. We activated the security camera tablets and linked them to our phones to strategize. Thank god there was nobody in the bathroom! So, we decided that Grover would take the living room, sports room, bar, lounge, and sauna. I would take the kitchen, video game room, mini-gym, and the laundry room (we use that to wash the blood off of our clothes). Grover headed off to the living room, distracting the guards while I sneaked off to the kitchen. While I heard clattering, goat braying, and silenced gunshots, I analyzed the room. 8 cops, examining 3 dead criminals, who had been killed while microwaving taquitos.

They must have heard the commotion, because they pulled out their guns and tip-toed towards the living room. This was my chance. I ran out, grabbing a kitchen knife and stabbing one guy in the throat. They turned towards me, but I was already crouching beneath a counter. Before they could investigate further, I shot I guy in the foot, stuck my knife in his head, and threw him towards their direction. Their mistake was that they stuck together. I threw some spilled taquitos towards them, surprising them with all the beef and enchilada sauce before I pulled out riptide and fired away at their direction, with all of them downed. Feeling like a badass, I swaggered out of the room before some guy knocked the gun out of my hands and smashed my skull with a ladle.

As I got up, I saw a big, beefy guy with a goatee and a knife in his hand. As he ran towards me, I tried to dodge him, but banged my hip against the counter and ended up struggling with him against the fridge. He tried to stick I knife in the side of my neck, but I moved just enough to make him stab my shoulder. Wincing in pain, I finished him off once and for all, when grappling, I landed a punch right on his earlobe and knocked him back, grabbing Riptide and finishing him with a shot to his head. I moved silently across the hallways, following the trail of bodies, cops and assassins alike, when I found the laundry room. Amidst the mounds of clothes, chugging washing machine, and dead bodies was the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. She had curly blonde hair, a tanned complexion, stormy gray eyes, and a…. POLICE UNIFORM? That was my last thought before she slammed me onto the washing machine, shot my ear, threw me onto a pile of clothes, and pointed a gun at me. She was still pretty damn sexy, though.


End file.
